Out Of Office Hours

Part 4 of my Annabelle/Pomfrey series. Enjoy!

Annabelle mentally groaned as she sat back in her chair, her eyes fixed on the literal mountain of paperwork in front of her.

Working for MI7 was not all glamour and fast cars, and working in the field. She still had to do paperwork.

Annabelle's office was small, boasting only a small desk which took up most of the room, three walls of glass which were obscured by blinds, a filing cabinet and two chairs. Her laptop gleamed with an ethereal blue light on the desktop, as she mulishly drifted her fingers across it.

The door of her office opened, to reveal Kelly Jones poking her head in.

"Hey, girl. You goin' home anytime soon?" she asked, her bobbed black hair hanging around her heart-shaped face.

"Nope. Mac's got me buried in paperwork," Annabelle replied, gesturing to the stack of forms she had to fill in, from last week's mission.

She still couldn't get that mission out of her mind.

A week ago she'd infiltrated AD1, seduced and been seduced by Piers again, and come away with a chip containing potentially damaging information on the government.

A night which still haunted her even now.

Going home, to her still, quiet flat did nothing for her determination to forget it. If anything the previously inviting dark, silent still of her empty flat now only served to remind her of all that she wanted so desperately.

"Don't get too bogged down, Annabelle. All work and no fun makes for a dull girl," Kelly quipped, before waving out the door. Annabelle watched her go lethargically, her brain already going back to those incredible hours in AD1's secret tower.

Sighing, she reached for her pen and started on those damn forms.

Two hours later, she was nearly finished, with all the forms neatly stacked on one side of her desk while she typed up a report on her laptop.

Her mind blindly looked at the screen, as her graceful fingers paused over the keyboard.

Her mind was treacherously going back to that night in Piers' arms, as she leant forward on her elbows, and hung her head in her hands.

Oh God this was a mess!

If she had known, nearly two years ago, that stepping foot in Piers' country mansion would lead to this, she would have turned tail and run. Run as far as she could.

Just to avoid falling in love with Sir-Piers-Sexist-Pig-Pomfrey.

She really didn't know how it had happened or when, but she did know it was irrevocable.

There were so many reasons why they just would not work. One, he was way older than her, two, he was a misogynistic pig who hated womankind and she was an independent, vehement feminist. In all reality they should never have been attracted to each other at all.

Three, he was AD1, and she was MI7. The two did not mix.

Four, their families hated each other with a vengeance, five, she had publicly humiliated him on an number of occasions, and six….

He was just so impossible!

Annabelle groaned, kneading her temples with her fingers. She could feel a migraine coming.

"Well, well, well look what we have here," a familiar voice drawled, as her head shot up.

Piers Pomfrey was standing in her office doorway.

"What the…?" she trailed off, staring wildly. He was leaning oh so casually against the doorframe, one shoulder propped against it. He looked devilishly hot, with his fitted grey suit and silvery hair, his dark eyes boring into hers, a confident smirk on his thin lips.

She remembered their taste all too well.

"This is a bit out of office hours for you, darling? You know what they say about all work and no play," he continued with a dangerous grin which might have had her knees buckling. Defiantly, she straightened her spine, stood, and rounded the front of her desk, hands on hips.

"How did you get in here, Piers?" she asked the most pertinent question first. Piers chuckled, a sinfully dark laugh which sent shivers down her spine.

"I have many friends in high places, Annabelle. It wasn't difficult," he murmured, watching her intently through those dark eyes.

"Alright," she breathed. "Then why are you here?"

Piers laughed, pushing away from the doorframe, and stalking towards her. It took all her will not to step back from the menacing sensuality she sensed emanating from him.

"Always so direct, Annabelle. Incidentally, you have something I want, a piece of information I will acquire, no matter the cost," he told her, and she nodded. Of course, information.

No other reason.

But her rebellious heart refused to stop soaring, just because he was here again.

"And of course I want payback for your little stunt last week," he continued, and she heard the deliberate snip of the lock being slid into place, trapping her in her office.

With him.

Alone, at night.

This was not good.

Thinking fast, she began to back away towards her desk, before plastering a seductive smile on her lips.

"Then by all means, come claim your 'payback'," she murmured, sitting back on the desk's hard surface while simultaneously, reaching back for the panic button concealed under the desk.

But Piers knew her too well, it seemed.

Within seconds, he had grasped her wrist, and pulled her upright, locking her against him.

"Oh not so fast, Fritton. Did you really think I didn't know about the panic button concealed under your desk?" he asked, in a dark growl against her ear.

"Oh well, worth a try," Annabelle quipped with considerably more bravado than she felt. In fact she was struggling not to simply haul him against her and kiss the life out of him.

She felt their attraction flare, his aura of sensuality stretching, reaching for her. If she didn't do something soon, she would be caught.

"So this is the plan, eh Piers? Try to seduce whatever information you want out of me…huh no points for originality but it's an old plan. Just like you," she spat sneeringly, at which his grip on her wrist tightened.

She gasped in pain, and looking into his eyes, saw there the intent and the pure screaming desire in his eyes. Gasping, she brought her free hand up, and tried to backhand him in the jaw, but he caught that wrist too, and forced her back against the filing cabinet.

"I certainly intend to seduce you," he growled against her lips, before taking them hungrily. In minutes Annabelle sank against him, passionately taking him all as their tongues twined and duelled, before writhing against him.

That familiar void inside her started pulsing, aching for his body to fill it, as he released her wrists and slid his arms around her waist.

Piers had indeed come for information, but not the kind Annabelle thought he wanted.

He had come for information of the emotional kind.

The instant he had stepped into her office, to find her head down and unaware for the moment, he had begun planning. His bribed informant had told him about the panic buttons on the bottom of the desks.

He had known she would go for that, so he made sure to lock the door, and stop her just as she went to press it. He knew she would try to fight him at first, particularly if she thought he was there just for revenge and personal gain.

He could predict her every move, now he knew her so well.

Tonight, the ball was in his corner.

And he had every intention of using his throw.

To find out if what he suspected was true, and to lay the seeds which would have her submitting to him, at last.

So when Annabelle kissed him back so ravenously, so passionately, and he felt his control tested, he reminded himself of his plan.

But she was quickly making him forget that plan.

Her hands slid down from his face, down his perfectly pressed suit lapels, to the screened muscles of his stomach. They contracted under her touch, and he groaned into her mouth, as he felt her hand drift further.

He caught her wrist, and yanked it back up, concentrated on regaining control of their exchange, tilting his head over hers to deepen the kiss, and whirl her away into a world of desire.

He thrust his hips against hers, drinking in her moan, as he began to unbutton her blouse, revealing her creamy skin. He broke from her lips to nuzzle down her neck, passionately devouring the long column of her throat.

He still held one wrist pinned to the cold metal of the filing cabinet, and he used his hold on her to begin rolling his hips rhythmically into hers, as he hauled his head back up and kissed her again, nipping at her swollen red lips.

Those lips which haunted him every time she wasn't with him.

He dominantly took possession of her mouth, before sliding his hands away from her hands, and down her spine, to her hips, pulling them against his, making the rocking motion of his hips even more provocative.

Annabelle gasped into his mouth, twining her arms around his neck, to pull herself against him even more firmly.

She felt his hard body cradled against her belly, and shuddered, before writhing against him desirously. The flames building underneath her skin, the ache in her muscles was only building and she was beyond any consideration other than when he would be within her again.

Taking hold of his tie, she yanked him around, and towards her desk. He laughed, snorting with amusement.

"You're impatient, my Annabelle," Piers muttered, grinning lasciviously as she dragged him toward the desk.

"I am burning. Burning with impatience, Piers," she breathed, just as the back of her thighs hit the table. Using his weight, he pushed her down onto the desk surface, first sweeping away the detritus of her work, and laying her flat on its surface.

He lay her there, her glorious hair ruffled and sprawled over the wooden service, her red lips glistening.

Her eyes reflected the same lust and desire he felt, but there was something more there which he had hoped to see.

"I want you by my side, all the time. I want you in my bed every night and every morning, writhing under me…" he trailed off, whispering seductively in her ear.

She inhaled shakily, and arched up to whisper back in his ear.

"Let me think about it," she murmured, as he felt triumph soar.

Coming from her, it meant she was capitulating.

"Then you're giving in?" he asked, barely able to comprehend what she was saying. She frowned up at him.

"Don't say it like that, and I might. But don't imagine for a second I'm going to become some mindlessly obedient slave," she murmured fiercely.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Piers replied, smirking as he lowered his head.

Annabelle met him, mouth to mouth, breast to chest, all her fire and passion against his stubbornness and pride.

Slowly and devotedly, he removed her blouse and underwear, while she tore off his shirt, tie and suit jacket. Her every muscle tensed, she arched under his attentions as he kissed and caressed every part of her he could reach, while she fiddled at the zipper of his trousers. He roughly pulled her skirt up, and wrenching from her lips, kissed down her body, sucking away the sweat pooling in the hollows of her body.

"If anyone should walk in, Piers," Annabelle protested weakly, when she felt his hands trail down her stomach to the juncture of her thighs. Piers raised his head, winking devilishly at her.

"There's no one in the building. I know how often you work out of office hours," he replied huskily, before returning his attention to her flushed, sweaty skin.

Annabelle writhed under his hands and tongue, ecstatic cries spilling from her lips. She dug her hands into his shoulders, before pulling him up to her lips by his silver hair.

"Stop teasing me, Piers, and get on with it," she almost growled against his lips before kissing him deeply, hugging his hips between her thighs.

"Your wish is my command," he ground out in his harsh voice, before releasing himself from the confines of his trousers, and thrusting into her.

She cried out, arching beneath him, her breath exhaling on a sob. Despite the hard, unforgiving surface of her desk, and the relentless, aching rhythm with which he pounded into her, she loved every moment of it and met him at every turn.

Piers was well aware that the only woman for him was at that moment, writhing beneath him, her nails digging into his back, their lips fused as one as he ravished her.

He could imagine no better fate than spending the rest of his life with his Annabelle.

Their differing temperaments and beliefs he would address later, but not now.

Not when he was making love to the woman he most wanted in his life.

On that thought, he shattered, feeling her simultaneous release as he slumped atop her. Trembling with exertion, he looked up and into Annabelle's brown, brown eyes.

He tucked a fallen lock of her hair back, and tenderly kissed her bruised lips.

Shaking, Annabelle returned the kiss, astounded by the emotion she could see in Piers' eyes.

"I'll get the car brought around," he breathed.

A few minutes later, Piers slid into the limousine waiting just outside the MI7 headquarters.

"Did you get the information you wanted, sir?" Peter's eager voice came over the seat from the front, as Piers relaxed back into the seat with a contented sigh.

"Oh yes, Peters. Oh yes," he smiled.

He now knew, was certain of it, that Annabelle loved him. Was in love with him.

He ignored Peters' surprised exclamation, when the door opposite Piers opened, and Annabelle slid in beside him, clothed in her trenchcoat. Outside the rain was falling, and its liquid diamonds clung to her hair and skin.

He pulled her into a deeply passionate kiss, tongues twining intimately as she shivered violently in his arms, not from cold but desire.

Piers turned his head, and inclined his head to Peters.

"Home, Peters," was all he said, before setting his lips back to Annabelle's desirously, as the car pulled away from the curb.